Your Character's Name: Calvin Calvin Thoruss grew up in a community far to the west, near the old state borders. This community was obsessed with regression and they loathed the world after the fall of mankind. The small village, Hamlet, was maybe 75 to 100 people and they all were like-minded in where to put the blame, everyone else. They decided to rewrite the world as they knew it and fabricated a whole new past, based on some pre-world fiction novels. They put strong ideas of faith and religion into their young ones’ minds and reprogramed the social standards. This world birthed Calvin. The unlucky boy to found a few strands of truth along the way, and because he uncovered the truth when he was nineteen years of age the consequences he paid were hefty. The home and hearth, protection and food, all sacrificed for the worth of the truth and a sense of freedom, which in his society this was unknown. It was one of the many things that the Founders programmed out of the psychology of the children. The plan was perfect but a few people who were too trusting in their own kind destroyed the world Calvin knew, and showed him a dead world he never knew. The few people, who relied on their own son, now have been laid down into the earth, shattered and faithless. Calvin regretted nothing from Hamlet not even the deaths of his own parents, on his hands. The morning was cold that day. The tasks handed down the lines and the Curators were setting up for a day of excavations. Calvin, the youthful Mouthpiece, stooped over his bowl of salted and soaked grains, one of the many luxuries for working for this guild. Finding salt had been hard, but it seemed that they always had just enough. Having just enough and doing just enough suited Calvin just fine for the past few years. But a complacent stare was mounted on Calvin’s usually cheerful face. Down the winding roads and twisting footpaths that have been marked and tracked by his fellow survivors Calvin heads off to the inner city of Rivertown. The coast of the lake is usually safe; keeping your back to one direction as you go makes it easier to travel. The overgrown beaches and rocky remnants of the beautiful parks make for easy hiding, especially when traveling alone, like Calvin. Normally he'd be joined by a small group of Curators, but after the attack of two weeks back the guild's limits were reached. So, instead of aiding him they armed him. Not like all the weapons he carried fell under his own proficiency. He wasn’t a half bad shot or and he could swing a blade fairly well too. But the mere image of a heavily armed man wandering the wastes alone is enough to scare off most, even of Calvin's size and stature. And for those few, who would not be subdued by physical intimidation, well let’s just say that Calvin could talk a starving man out of his lunch. And of course when carrying so many weapons it always leaves a final option, bribery. The skeletal buildings loomed over the sunny sky, a cold breeze beat across the lake. This place once a flourished, filled to the brim with people and life. The life robbed from this world, happened long before Calvin took his first breath. These towers and structures were formed once upon a time as part of a grand community. The people must have been friendly and caring, how else would a city have stood with so many different people living in such close clusters. Curators and Keepers could barely keep things civil. The largest was a building with three letters clung to the side of it; B-A- and the N was askew as if hanging by a single cord. These structures held so many secrets locked away about who the people of this world were, once upon a time. The BAN, or BAZ according to some historians, building contained a vast amount of knowledge sealed deep inside the corridors behind steel walls and doors. Did our ancestors know the end was coming and seal away help for us? Maybe it was supplies, Calvin thought. But no one of their guild had the firepower to crack open the timecapsule that was the BAN. Calvin made his way through the Lake Park, past the Empty Lagoon, he moved up to the crumbling remains of the Old Church. Calvin made this trip dozens of times. The old gnarled root tree, the copse of Willows, and even the Seaside Shanty, a few of his friends and him once found a small globe and set of maps there. But without even realizing it this time, he couldn’t get his mind off of Hamlet. All the things he left behind, there was a collection of items that could now be explained and identified with all that he learned from the Curators. And there were even people that came to mind at this point, he had some friends and even his mentors… “Stop right there, in the name of our God and in the power of his Mind!” A booming voice came from behind him as he straightened up mid-climb up a hill before reaching the temple grounds. “Are you one who restores and collects?”
Calvin Thoruss grew up in a community far to the west, near the old state borders. This community was obsessed with regression and they loathed the world after the fall of mankind. The small village, Hamlet, was maybe 75 to 100 people and they all were like-minded in where to put the blame, everyone else. They decided to rewrite the world as they knew it and fabricated a whole new past, based on some pre-world fiction novels. They put strong ideas of faith and religion into their young ones’ minds and reprogramed the social standards. This world birthed Calvin. The unlucky boy to found a few strands of truth along the way, and because he uncovered the truth when he was nineteen years of age the consequences he paid were hefty. The home and hearth, protection and food, all sacrificed for the worth of the truth and a sense of freedom, which in his society this was unknown. It was one of the many things that the Founders programmed out of the psychology of the children. The plan was perfect but a few people who were too trusting in their own kind destroyed the world Calvin knew, and showed him a dead world he never knew. The few people, who relied on their own son, now have been laid down into the earth, shattered and faithless. Calvin regretted nothing from Hamlet not even the deaths of his own parents, on his hands.
The morning was cold that day. The tasks handed down the lines and the Curators were setting up for a day of excavations. Calvin, the youthful Mouthpiece, stooped over his bowl of salted and soaked grains, one of the many luxuries for working for this guild. Finding salt had been hard, but it seemed that they always had just enough. Having just enough and doing just enough suited Calvin just fine for the past few years. But a complacent stare was mounted on Calvin’s usually cheerful face.
Down the winding roads and twisting footpaths that have been marked and tracked by his fellow survivors Calvin heads off to the inner city of Rivertown. The coast of the lake is usually safe; keeping your back to one direction as you go makes it easier to travel. The overgrown beaches and rocky remnants of the beautiful parks make for easy hiding, especially when traveling alone, like Calvin. Normally he'd be joined by a small group of Curators, but after the attack of two weeks back the guild's limits were reached. So, instead of aiding him they armed him. Not like all the weapons he carried fell under his own proficiency. He wasn’t a half bad shot or and he could swing a blade fairly well too. But the mere image of a heavily armed man wandering the wastes alone is enough to scare off most, even of Calvin's size and stature. And for those few, who would not be subdued by physical intimidation, well let’s just say that Calvin could talk a starving man out of his lunch. And of course when carrying so many weapons it always leaves a final option, bribery.
The skeletal buildings loomed over the sunny sky, a cold breeze beat across the lake. This place once a flourished, filled to the brim with people and life. The life robbed from this world, happened long before Calvin took his first breath. These towers and structures were formed once upon a time as part of a grand community. The people must have been friendly and caring, how else would a city have stood with so many different people living in such close clusters. Curators and Keepers could barely keep things civil. The largest was a building with three letters clung to the side of it; B-A- and the N was askew as if hanging by a single cord. These structures held so many secrets locked away about who the people of this world were, once upon a time. The BAN, or BAZ according to some historians, building contained a vast amount of knowledge sealed deep inside the corridors behind steel walls and doors. Did our ancestors know the end was coming and seal away help for us? Maybe it was supplies, Calvin thought. But no one of their guild had the firepower to crack open the timecapsule that was the BAN.
Calvin made his way through the Lake Park, past the Empty Lagoon, he moved up to the crumbling remains of the Old Church. Calvin made this trip dozens of times. The old gnarled root tree, the copse of Willows, and even the Seaside Shanty, a few of his friends and him once found a small globe and set of maps there. But without even realizing it this time, he couldn’t get his mind off of Hamlet. All the things he left behind, there was a collection of items that could now be explained and identified with all that he learned from the Curators. And there were even people that came to mind at this point, he had some friends and even his mentors…
“Stop right there, in the name of our God and in the power of his Mind!” A booming voice came from behind him as he straightened up mid-climb up a hill before reaching the temple grounds. “Are you one who restores and collects?”